Precarious
by captainswanproblems
Summary: Emma Swan is an agent― one of the best. So what can she expect when Regina Mills, her boss, sends her off onto a case that requires her to seduce and then arrest one of the most dangerous criminals, who's playing professor at Oxford University? Rated T for now. Triangle, EmmaxKillianxGraham. CS ENDGAME.


**Hi! Thanks for clicking on my story. I hope you enjoy! This story is highly inspired by Crimson and Provocateur. Credits to the authors, SilverRavenStar and swaggercaptain. Enjoy, and please review!**

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"Agent Swan, I need you to work on a special case with your unit for me. You guys are my best. The others have already agreed― they just need you. It would be quite dangerous, Miss Swan. Are you up for it?" Regina Mills's voice rang out, loud and clear, on the other end of the line.

Merely minutes ago, Emma was sitting on her couch after dealing with a guy at a restaurant named Ryan who had suspected that he was on a blind date. She had told him about how she had no family to spend her birthday with, and so that she decided to spend it with him. She had smirked at his face when she told him she knew that he embezzled money from his employer and abandoned his wife and children, and then told him to give any money he has left to his freakin' family.

That was when he ran. After Emma followed him and before she slammed his head into his steering wheel, he had the nerve to ask her, _"What do you know about family?"_ She had flown into a rage and knocked him out. Not long after, Regina called.

"Depends," Emma spoke after lighting her blue star-shaped birthday candle. "Details?"

"You're going to befriend a criminal who committed several offenses of multiple murders, assault of a police officer, robbery, arson, larceny, and well... the list goes on. You're going to get him to trust you― because, hey, every male will end up trusting a leggy blonde―" Emma rolled her eyes, "and then you're going to get him to confess to everything, tell you his plans, things like that. You're to report to us here at the office via phone every time you find something new. Since he's the most wanted man out there, I'm willing to up your pay. This is expected to take a while, if our suspicions are correct. Months, at least. What do you say, Miss Swan? Just say the word and we'll put you on a plane for the next stop to Oxford. Rest assured, we'll even convert your money to British pounds."

Emma thought about it. Months in Oxford with her special unit team, chasing down a more than dangerous criminal? Interesting. She decided to take it. What else did she have to do around Boston? She was all alone in a giant ass apartment complex, whoring around with one-night-stands some nights, and watching television other nights. Emma sighed, creating a burst of static to go through to the other line.

"Fine. What's his name?"

She can already imagine Mills's blood red lips curling into a smile as her hands clutched her black iPhone. "Fantastic. His name is Killian Jones."

* * *

As Emma hung up the phone, she turned around to face her cupcake, which was still lit with the candle. She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and bent down slightly to rest her elbows on the cool marble counter.

"I wish I don't have to be alone anymore," she whispered quietly to herself before blowing out the flame and setting the cupcake back into the fridge. It was probably going to be stale after her trip to Oxford.

She turned around and went into her room to pack her bags.

* * *

A few minutes after Emma Swan left her apartment, suitcases in hand, Henry Mills walked up and knocked. He stood and waited patiently, hoping that his birth mother would open the door and remember him. After ten seconds, he decided to knock again. No answer.

Henry frowned. He was sure he got the right address. He looked at the watch he wore on his right wrist. _11:49 P.M._ It was late, so he was sure she was supposed to be home. He tried one more time, but walked away when, again, there was no answer.

* * *

Emma sat down on her seat of the plane, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that she got the window seat. She was settling down and getting comfortable when she felt someone behind her kick her seat. She whipped around violently, a death glare on her face. She rolled her eyes when she saw that it was just Jefferson, another agent from her unit. Agent Pierce.

"Hello, Emma. You look lovely in that get-up," he smirked cheekily when she turned back to glare at him once more. She didn't get time to change out of the short, tight, hot pink dress or the black high heels she wore to go deal with Ryan.

"Shut up," she snapped.

He put both of his hands up in mock offense, a shit eating smile on his face.

She ran a hand through her curly blonde tresses as she thought of the plan. Regina told her that she was supposed to act as a nineteen year old American girl, attending Oxford University for the first time. She had even gotten Emma a fake I.D. She was already registered for one of Killian Jones's history courses―American history from The Civil War to the present. Apparently, he was a murdering college professor. Hm. Makes sense.

Emma broke out of her deep reverie when she heard a deep, heavily accented voice to her right.

"Looks like this is my seat," the man spoke aloud as he sat down. He turned to her and offered a half-smile that would've made every girl melt. But Emma wasn't just any girl. "Hello, beautiful. You look quite ravishing in that pretty little outfit, if I may." He smirked, just as Jefferson did, when she rolled her eyes. She was more than sure that he was listening in, silently laughing his ass off behind her.

Without a word, she turned to the other side and stared out the window, hoping that he would take a hint and stop talking to her. _Cocky asshole_, she thought as she could still feel his gaze burning into her side.

"Why the cold shoulder, lass? Name's Killian Jones. Pleasure, surely."

Emma perked up, but she showed no sign for fear that he would figure out that she knew he was a criminal. She can tell that Jefferson was still listening as well.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she pretended to be asleep. She had, after all, a long day at work.

"No reply? You want me to stop talking to you? Well, your wish is my command, darling."

"Good, since you're my freaking history professor for fuck's sake," she blurted out. She inwardly scolded herself. She had been itching to say a word to him, anything that would make him stop flirting with her.

"Oi!" he exclaimed, straightening up in his seat. "Really, lass? American history about The Civil War to the present at Oxford?"

She turned to her right so she could get a good look at him, and him at her. She studied his face quickly and discreetly. Blue eyes, black hair, scruff on his chin and cheeks, a fetish for leather. Emma raised her eyebrows by the tiniest centimeter.

"That's the one."

She turned back to the window and curled up into her seat, trying to pretend that she's going to go to sleep.

Not so long as he was right next to her.

"Do you need a pillow, lass?" before she could even reject it, he pulled it out and handed it to her after fluffing it out. "Enjoy."

Her eyebrows scrunched up as she muttered a small _thanks_ and placed her head onto the cushion. She inhaled the scent of musk, leather, and the sea. She swallowed a lump in her throat when she also caught the scent of rust― blood― on the pillow. Did he murder a stupid blonde that was also dumb enough to fall asleep in front of him?

She closed her eyes, but she didn't sleep. As long as he was right next to her, she would be restless.

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